Sin shut up. She wasn’t going to get into a suicidal conversation with a demon; she wasn’t going to think about what she had lost; she wasn’t going to look behind her.
She was going to keep walking. She was going to endure, through this city turned into hell, and she was going to get back to the children, who would be helpless without her.
She kept all her promises to herself but one. She did look back.
Not too often on that long, nightmarish walk through fire and darkness as the fire in the city and the shadowed daylight began to die, but often enough. She looked back and saw Alan’s face, pale as a dead thing, watching her with endless amusement.
As soon as Nick turned the key in the lock, Sin pushed her way through the door, and Mae barreled out of the bedroom.
“What happened? Where’s Alan?”
Of course Mae would expect them to come back with Alan alive, Alan safe, because she had been brought up in a world where magic meant fairy tales.
“Alan’s possessed,” Sin said, the inside of her throat burned and razed with smoke, her voice too broken to break any more. She didn’t even resent Mae for that lovely, stupid belief, just felt a distant kind of pity.
She stepped past Mae and realized she could stop moving at last. She leaned against the wall.
And she realized Mae was suicidal and crazy, because she ran forward and tried to hug Nick.
Nick backed into the door, moving as sharply as if Mae had weapons and he was an ordinary human being, the kind of person who would see weapons and panic hard enough to back himself into a corner.
His body hit the door, and Mae got her arms around his neck.
“Nick,” she said against his chest, too short to even get his shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Nick.”
Nick’s hands balled into fists and his head ducked slightly, as if it might bow. He could accept the hug or he could hit her.
Then Sin saw his spine straighten as he recalled he wasn’t human, and he had another choice.
“Mae,” he said, in the flat voice he had been using since Alan had turned around in the morning sunlight. “I want you to get out.”
From a hundred nights at the Goblin Market, Sin knew the feel of magic thick in the air. She knew the feel of little magics, like fireflies landing on your skin, and powerful magic like wind roaring in your ears. She knew the feel of magic twisting and turning dark.
She knew at once that when Mae stepped stiffly back and away from Nick, it was not of her own free will.
“Nick,” Mae said in a horrified gasp, her hand going to the demon’s mark near her throat.
Her feet took another jerky step back, and Nick was able to move past her, down the tiny hall and away from them both.
He had no right. Sin drew her knife with shaking fingers, and it slid out of her hand like an escaping snake, striking the wall.
“Nick,” Mae said, and her voice was not a gasp anymore as she started to believe the immensity of this betrayal. Her voice was furious.
Her feet dragged forward, one pushed after another, clumsy as a puppet. She tried to get a purchase on the walls, her hands scrabbling, until they were forced down to her sides.
She turned her head even as her hands fumbled for the lock on the door.
“I won’t forgive you for this,” she said.
Nick was not even looking at her. “I don’t care.”
The door slammed behind Mae. Sin looked at Nick, and he shoved past her and went into the kitchen. She stood in the doorway and watched him.
“That was—”
“Inhuman?” Nick pulled out a chair and threw himself into it. “Imagine that.”
“Cruel,” Sin told him.
Nick bared his teeth at her. “That’s what we are,” he said. “Do you want to know what possession feels like?”
Sin couldn’t answer him. Her mouth had gone dry. She went and stood with her back against the kitchen counter, her hands gripping it, because having a physical support and something to hold on to was all there was to comfort her.
“I know enough about possession,” she said eventually, her voice paper thin and dry. “I was with my mother every day until she died.”
She tried not to remember the echoing white passages of Mezentius House, the sounds of screams from the other rooms. She tried not to remember when the screams were coming from her room, how scared she’d been the demon would hurt her so she couldn’t dance anymore, how her mother’s body had twisted like a prisoner’s on the rack and changed, so terribly fast. Her beautiful mother.
Oh God, Alan.
Sin clutched the countertop as hard as she could, until her bones ached. She could not fall apart. In a minute she would go to the kids.
No, in a minute she would go to the bathroom and wash away the traces of ashes and tears. They couldn’t see her like this.
“You don’t know about possession like I do,” Nick said. He sat at the table with his head bowed over his arms, staring down at his knuckles. His voice was measured, utterly cold. “You don’t know it from the inside.”
“Stop,” Sin said.
“No,” said Nick, calm and pitiless. “First you slip in and they’re fighting so hard, they can’t believe such a thing has happened to them. So you torture them. You crush them and they scream inside their own heads and you laugh at them, because nobody but you will ever hear them again.”
Sin closed her eyes and measured her breaths, in and out. She wasn’t going to think about Alan, she wasn’t going to break down. She had the kids to think of.
“Second, they start to beg, and that’s funny. You hate them so much, for no reason except that they’re human and they’ve been sucking up all the warmth of the world for years without thinking to appreciate it. You want them to crawl to you. And then you torture them some more. Because it’s so much fun. Third—”
“Third, they want to make a bargain,” said a new voice, as flat as Nick’s but not as smooth, the words jerky, not quite pieced together, in a way that reminded Sin of the way Mae had moved when Nick forced her to the door. As if it wasn’t her body.
As if it wasn’t his voice.
She opened her eyes and saw Alan’s body lounging in the doorway, with an easy grace Alan had never possessed. He was standing in a little pool of ashes, looking like he’d been swimming in that burning river. Ash covered his clothes and made a filthy halo around his head.
He gave them both a sunny smile.
“Usually it takes a few days before they get around to the bargaining,” the demon continued. “But you may have noticed, your boy’s quick. Such an interesting mind.”
Nick’s head had reared back. He looked more nightmarish than the other demon did, his eyes black holes in a mask so white it blazed.
“Do you want to know why bargaining with demons almost never works?” the demon asked. He strolled into the kitchen, moving in fluid, easy strides.
Seeing the loss of the limp she’d always hated was almost too much for Sin. She wanted to be sick.
He circled Nick’s chair, but Nick sat there like a stone. The demon roved over to Sin. She pressed back hard against the counter.
“How about you, princess?”
That was what made her realize what should have been obvious long before. Of course, what other demon had served the Circle so well that he deserved a reward like this? What other demon wanted revenge like he did?
What other demon would have followed Nick home?
“I don’t know, Anzu,” Sin said between her teeth.
“Humans are so rarely eager to offer us what we want,” Anzu murmured, the curve of Alan’s mouth like a scimitar. “Everything.”
He was standing very close now. She was glad he smelled like ashes and blood, not like guns.
“But your boy, your Alan—” Sin flinched, and Anzu’s smile broadened with delight. He pushed his face closer to hers, as if he could scent out weakness. “Alan,” he repeated, but she didn’t let him see her flinch again. “Well. That’
s exactly what he offered. Not like Liannan’s deal, sharing a body for privileges. Just unconditional surrender. His voice, free access to his mind, a promise not to fight, total cooperation.”
She made herself breathe in measured, controlled breaths. She held her body still and did not speak, and Anzu lost interest in her, moved away and back to his real target.
“Interesting how quickly he gave up, don’t you think?” he asked Nick. “Really, it’s as if he was used to being the slave to a demon already. As if he never had a soul to call his own.”
Now that Anzu had turned away, Sin moved quietly, heading for the bathroom. She was going there to wash her face; she had always intended to do that, it was nothing to remark on.
As soon as she was in the bathroom she slid the lock on the door closed, even though she knew it would not keep a demon out.
She leaned against the bathroom door, fished her new phone out of her jeans pocket, and called Mae. The phone rang and Sin was still in control, she was, but her body felt as if it had been frozen in those moments where Anzu leaned close, and now it was turning to water. Her legs simply would not hold her up. She slid, the door still at her back, to the cool tiles of the bathroom floor.
When Mae answered the phone, Sin said, “You have to help me.”
“Anything,” Mae said. She’d obviously been crying; she was no good at modulating her voice to conceal it, but a stuffed nose didn’t impair Mae’s determination at all. “I’m so sorry, Sin. I’m so—Alan was one of my best friends. Anything I can do, I will.”
“He has a plan,” Sin whispered, and wiped her brimming eyes with the back of her hand. “Anzu’s the one possessing Alan. And he’s here, he’s gloating to Nick, he can talk. Alan gave him his voice, he’s not fighting him at all.”
Mae’s voice was choking up even more. “Oh God, Sin. God.”
“But you know why he’s doing it,” Sin said. “You see.”
Her manipulative liar, her endless schemer, did not do things without a reason. He was managing his own possession.
“He’s buying himself time,” Sin said. “The body will last longer if he doesn’t fight. He’s buying us time, to save him. He’s got a plan.”
Even saying the words, mentioning the possibility of saving him, made her feel dizzy. It was a fairy tale, it was ridiculous; everyone knew possession was a death sentence. Everyone knew it was worse than that.
“Sin,” Mae said, her voice gentle, “if he’s got a plan, Anzu knows it by now. Alan’s plans won’t work anymore. He can’t scheme his way out of this one.”
She had known that, really, all along. The blinding realization of what Alan was doing had dazzled her for a moment, that was all. The thought that he was still somewhere in there hoping had made her hope too.
But there was no hope.
Sin leaned her head back against the bathroom door. “I know,” she said. “I know.”
Mae said, “We have to think of a plan ourselves.”
15
Brothers in Arms
THE KNOCK ON THE FRONT DOOR CAME ALMOST IMMEDIATELY after Mae spoke. “Mae,” Sin said, low. “Are you at the door?”
Just as low, though the demons were not there to hear her, as if Sin’s fear was infecting her, Mae whispered, “No.”
Sin cut off the call, leaned her forehead against the phone, and boosted herself to her feet. She shoved her phone into her pocket, unlocked the door, and threw it open so hard it hit the wall, because otherwise she would have stayed cowering in the bathroom.
A moment later, she wished she had.
She’d stepped out between the possessed bodies of the people she loved. Anzu and Liannan were standing in the hall. They had been looking at each other, but now they were both looking at her.
Liannan stood there with the red hair streaming down her shoulders snarled with ash, a bright, sharp smile on her face.
“Merris?” Sin whispered, because it was not night yet. It was daytime even if it was daytime in hell, and that was who should be in this body.
And Merris answered, black starting to bleed from the ash in her hair, staining the red and spreading.
“Thea,” she said, using the Goblin Market nickname for her instead of the severe “Cynthia” she usually preferred.
Sin felt a great bound of hope in her chest, as if she could fling herself into Merris’s arms like a child and expect to be saved, just like that. As if it could be that simple.
But Merris’s hands had nails that glimmered strangely sharp, and there was still red in her hair and a wild strangeness to her face.
“Liannan?” Anzu asked, and he sounded uncertain.
“I’m here,” said Liannan, her voice changing again, lifeless and flat, all the humanity leached out. “But it is technically her turn.”
“Technically?” Sin whispered.
Liannan smiled. “Our boundaries are more fluid these days.”
“It’s disgusting that you have to sully yourself like this,” Anzu said.
“I don’t know,” said Liannan. “All that screaming gets tiresome after a while, don’t you find?”
Sin wouldn’t have thought she could look away from Liannan lest she miss a moment when she might turn into Merris, but she found her head turning helplessly to look at Alan’s face.
“No. I enjoy it,” said Anzu, and used Alan’s mouth to smile. “Especially now.”
Liannan moved past Sin, her hair brushing whisper-soft against Sin’s shoulder, and stood beside Anzu. She reached up and drew her fingernails down his cheek, deliberately drawing four bleeding lines.
“I do not think this was a particularly good idea,” she said. “The city’s on fire. So I see he’s taking it well.”
The trails of blood moved across Alan’s face, drawing a pattern as if the demon was going to play noughts and crosses in blood across Alan’s skin. Then a shadow fell across the blood.
Nick stood in the kitchen doorway, his hands on the door frame as if he was blocking the way.
There were three demons standing close enough to reach out and kill her, and the kids were only a door away.
“Liannan,” said Nick, “you’re not welcome here.”
“But the city’s burning,” Liannan said. “It’s beautiful. I know you’re put out that Anzu stole your pet, but we are all together at last. Let us cheer you up. Let’s take your bad mood out on the humans. We could go to the Tower of London and get those executions started again.”
Nick stared at her blankly. Liannan turned away from Anzu and toward him, reaching out a hand. He didn’t flinch back, and she didn’t touch him: He’d known she wouldn’t. They were comfortable together, with the ease of long familiarity.
“I’m sorry too,” Liannan told him. “Alan was lovely. But he’s gone now. Let’s go out and choose you a new one.”
“Why don’t you get out?” Nick asked. “You’re boring me.”
“We could—”
“I have a headache tonight, dear,” Nick drawled. “I didn’t ask you to come. I could have gone to find you any time in the last month, Liannan, but I didn’t. Can’t you take a hint? I don’t want you here.”
“I want to talk to Merris,” Sin said into the silence after those words.
The demons looked at her, as if they were distantly surprised she dared to speak at all. Anzu moved toward her, and a warning, animal impulse at the base of Sin’s spine told her she was in danger.
“No,” said Merris. “Don’t touch her.”
She reached past Anzu and took Sin’s wrist, and Sin let her despite those lethally pointed nails. Merris drew her into the sitting room, leaving the others out in the hall.
Merris sat down on the sofa, gracefully crossing her legs. Her whole body looked younger, Sin saw with a dull sense of shock, her legs strong, their muscles taut. Dancer’s legs.
“What is it you need, Thea?” Merris asked, and her voice was gentle, for Merris. It would have been reassuring, aside from everything else.
Sin sat
on the very edge of the sofa and uncurled her hands from their fists.
“You’ve changed,” she said softly.
“Well,” Merris said, and smiled a small secretive smile. She did not look at all displeased. “I suppose I have.”
“You’ve been away from the Market a long time,” Sin said. “Were you at Mezentius House?”
“At first.” Merris’s tone was dismissive. “I put a friend of mine in charge there. I was not going to simply abandon my responsibilities.”
Her hands had been veined but strong once, gnarled at the back like old tree trunks but still moving gracefully to express herself. They were smooth now. Sin had liked Merris’s hands the way they were. The Market had been safe in Merris’s hands. Sin had, as well.
“What about the Market? Were you just going to leave it up to Mae?”
“Oh,” Merris murmured. “She’s come out on top already, has she?”
She did not sound in the least surprised. Sin gritted her teeth.
“She hasn’t come out on top. I’ve been thrown out of the Market, but they haven’t chosen her as a leader. They all thought you were coming back, and I want to know what’s going on,” she said between her teeth. “I thought—you said Liannan was whispering to you, and you had to silence her, and now you’re letting her out during the day!”
Merris smiled faintly. “I started whispering back. We started whispering to each other. When I was young, I was a dancer.”
Sin nodded.
Merris raised an eyebrow. “Oh, you’ve heard the stories. But you never saw me dance. I was better than your mother ever was, I was better than you ever will be. I danced in Goblin Markets around the world. The most beautiful songs played in the Goblin Market today, Cynthia, they were written for me. Do you want to know why I was so good?”
In Mezentius House, Sin had thought about not being able to dance anymore. She’d pictured being hurt, being wrenched out of the world she knew, and when she’d escaped unscathed she found it even harder to look at Alan, or anyone else who couldn’t dance.
She’d always known that she would have to stop dancing one day, but something about Merris’s voice made her picture it now: more than half her life, not able to dance a real dance, the true dance, under the lights of the Market.
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